Let Me In
by OnceTwiceTimeThing
Summary: The shorter man verbalized nothing, but his actions spoke loud enough to cinch everything. Jonathan Crane knew now. One-sided CranexTetch. Based loosely on 'Hearts A Mess' by Gotye. This is in no way related to "Madder, Maddest" story-wise, it's just a drabble that grew into a full-blown fic unexpectedly.


The setting sun hung low in the sky, which had itself turned a creamy orange. It was somewhat difficult to tell from the belly of an asylum, but light still shone through cracks in the brick wall. These were in the days before Arkham was revamped and modernized. As it was, the facilities were brittle and relatively easy to break out of. Tetch knew this, but he didn't dare budge. He simply couldn't, not now. Instead, he sat quietly on his cot with his back hunched, drumming absently on his kneecaps with his fingertips. He couldn't bring himself to look up at his cellmate, for fear (yes, _fear_, are you quite satisfied?) of what might happen if his gaze was noticed. Jervis didn't have to look up to know that he was still just across the room, propped up in his own bed with a book, metaphorically licking his latest wounds. Said wounds, however, were very real. After his latest run-in with the law, a particularly vengeful and self-righteous officer had beaten him within an inch of his life, making him almost grateful to be back behind bars. For once, Batman's intervention was not needed, or at least, not on the behalf of the police force. Despite his freshly tattered body, Crane's mind- his greatest asset- was thankfully still in tact. Had he come back a vegetable, why, Jervis wouldn't know what to do with himself. He'd be utterly beside himself. _Devastated_, even. Conceivably devastated, at the very least. Inconsolable? Well, probably consolable… eventually…

He pondered this further, for a moment. _'Either it brings a tear to their eyes, or else-'_

_"Or else it doesn't, you know._" He finished the quote aloud, and Jonathan stirred. "What was that, Tetch?" He almost instantly regretted his inquiry. He knew full well that once prompted to speak, The Hatter never stopped. But it had been a while since they'd lived in close quarters, and the corrupted doctor, long as he'd been away, was rusty.

"Ah..! Nothing. My thoughts are running away with me, it seems."

Crane didn't look up from his reading, but he was still unable to dam the natural stream of harsh comments that rushed so virulently from his mind to his mouth. "Yes, it would, if they were, in fact, your own thoughts, Tetch. But they're not, they're Carroll's. The day you express an original concept is the day we're both issued our respective clean bills of mental health, i.e. never."

Jervis only frowned a little wider than he had been before. Very seldom did he react to his roommate's jabs anymore. On a good day, they were almost endearing. The Hatter then had an excellent idea. He changed the subject.

"I was worried sick about you, you know. That is, when I heard-" he stopped suddenly, as if the next fragment of his sentence was potentially offensive. Jonathan waited a moment before responding, still not abandoning his Le Fanu anthology. His tone was dry as ever. "Yes well, as you can see I'm fine. I'm sure your concern is most appreciated."

Jervis's discomfort grew. He nibbled on his lower lip, and for one hopeful, fleeting moment, his companion thought that the conversation had ended.

"Why are you always so…" The Hatter's voice trailed off. It wasn't that he didn't have the words. Oh, he had them in abundance, but his sense of politeness and conversational finesse quickly overtook his bruised indignation.

Crane sighed and placed his book aside at long last. It was going to be one of _those_ nights, wasn't it? They were going to have yet another _talk._

"Dear boy," he began, oozing impatience. "It is in my nature. It's nothing personal, I can promise you that much. As to why that might be, well, your guess is as good as mine. In spite of my own first, second, and third instincts, I still must adhere to the golden rule of clinical psychology: self-analysis is off limits."

Jervis's brow furrowed._ 'Now I don't buy that for one minute.'_ He knew the man before him terribly well. Nothing could curtail that warped shrink's overwhelming curiosity, especially when it came to matters of the mind. In all likelihood, he probably spent more time analyzing himself than anyone else. Jervis shook his head slowly, disapprovingly. "Excuses, excuses."

His cellmate only moved to return to his Le Fanu. "My, aren't we the curt one today."

"And _my_, aren't _you_ the curt one _every day?"_ He sniped back. The Hatter's emotions began to boil.

"Christ Tetch, just what's gotten into you?"

The diminutive inventor all but lept to his feet. "Don't be an ass, Jonathan! You know full well what's 'gotten into me.'" Admittedly, Jervis found that phrasing to be somewhat uncomfortable, but did his best to dismiss the thought. Much to his relief, Crane finally seemed to be displaying some human emotions now, even if they were only feelings in the vein of irritation. "I'm certain, _Tetch_, that I don't."

Worryingly, Jonathan seemed adamant. What if he wasn't playing dumb after all? But for the second time this evening, _perish the thought._

Jervis crossed his arms, still firm. "Come on, I hardly think someone as bright as you could be so emotionally deaf." His cellmate quirked a brow.

"Try me."

His companion's expression softened. "You mean… you really haven't noticed?"

Jon didn't move one muscle. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

Hatter just then turned several shades of pink. "Uhm…"

Noticing this, Jonathan suddenly looked much more engaged in the conversation, and much to his cellmate's chagrin, he seemed to be putting the pieces together, at long and shameful last. This consideration only caused the Hatter to flush with more intensity. His back stiffened.

"Jervis..." Crane's voice was now laced with both concern and disquiet. "What are you trying to say?"

The man in question averted his gaze, looking down and shaking his head. His visage was now a furious red, nearly purple in his thick cheeks, though that might have been the other rogue's imagination. The shorter man verbalized nothing, but his actions spoke loud enough to cinch everything. Jonathan Crane _knew_ now.

"Oh, Jervis." His voice was piteous and removed. "You've really gone and done it now." Tetch only receded further into himself, but it was too late. Dr. Crane was on the job. He had to parse the subject now, and he would be systematic, scientific, and painfully detached about the entire affair. He wouldn't let it go until he had all the information he wanted. "What about Alice?" He ventured. "Surely you prefer her over me." The scholar knew trying to dredge Ms. Pleasance back into this would be nothing short of torturous for The Hatter, but he so desperately wanted to be out of the emotional equation that he didn't rightly care, at least not in that moment. As expected, Jervis looked very wounded. He still refused to glance back up.

_"It was much pleasanter at home,"_ he finally confessed._ "when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down the rabbit-hole- and yet- and yet-..." _He shifted uncomfortably. Jonathan looked aghast. After what seemed like a very long while, the ex-doctor pushed further, cursing himself for how soft his voice suddenly sounded. "H-how long has it been?" Jervis only shook his head again.

Oh, this was bad. This was very bad. This was very bad, and it had to be dealt with. It had to be dealt with _now_. After another long, silent moment scurried past, wasting itself, Johnathan sighed and pressed the nurse's "call" button. It was unfortunate that things had to be this way. Nary as he'd be willing to admit it out loud, Jervis was the only person in that blasted hospital whom he'd readily think of as a friend. The only person in the whole _world,_ even. He was remarkably fond of the little imp, with his puckish manner and buck teeth. It was a shame things had to be this way.

Hatter glanced up at the sounding of a faint buzz. The call button. "What are you doing?"

"Requesting a cell change," he said plainly.

A horrified look crept over Tetch's face. "B-b-b-but _why?_"

Jonathan sighed again. Jervis was really fixed on making this as agonizing as possible wasn't he? "Because we can't carry on this way. Living in close quarters in view of this… these _circumstances_ is no fairer to you than it is to me. I'm sure you agree that it's best we part ways." The Hatter's eyes flickered, his troubled expression deepening into one that threatened agony. Crane, however, continued, trying to maintain his calm. "This evening notwithstanding, sharing a room with you has been markedly pleasant. Perhaps one day when we're both-" _"-No."_

The Hatter's temper suddenly flared. He stood up, stepping closer all the time. "You're _not_ going to do this to me Jonathan. You're not going to do what _she_ did." His snarling voice softened, momentarily: "You're _different."_

For the first time in his life, Jervis spied unmistakable fear painted across The Scarecrow's face. They searched one another for sympathy silently, detecting only selfish, defensive motives. Tetch's brow steepened again. "You're not going to cast me aside."

Had he not been previously injured, Jonathan wouldn't have been half as intimidated as he was now, but that in juncture the foreignness of his friend's passionate emotions and his own key role in their reveal had subdued him. He had no rational hopes of defending himself physically, if such a thing were to be necessary, so for all intents and purposes, he was incapacitated.

"Don't make me force you," Hatter continued, seeming madder by the second. He brandished a small white card, one he'd no doubt slipped out from his sleeve. It must have been so easy to smuggle his devices into Arkham. "It's hardly something I'd relish, but I'll do it if denied an alternative." Crane could find several things wrong with what his cellmate had just said, but not being in the position to argue, he kept his mouth shut. Not even his much-loved logic could protect him in this instant.

"I _know_ you, Jonathan," he continued to press, taking on a pleading quality. "You _must_ have feelings for me, somewhere, deep down. I know your defenses are everything to you, but if you'd just _let me in-"_

"Tetch," the other interrupted, suddenly very calm. Jervis looked at him expectantly. "I'm afraid not."

Before The Hatter could respond, a young nurse, shadowed by two burly orderlies, entered their shared cell, and it was all over. Jervis's expression developed into a furious one, and for a moment it looked as though he'd pitch a tantrum, but even he had to acknowledge that, for the time being, he was beaten. He sighed heavily as Jonathan recapped their situation for the nurse, who nodded and gently led one sullen Jervis Tetch out of the room. He was reciting more Carroll under his breath, and though it seemed innocuous enough, Jonathan was perfectly aware of what he meant by it.

_"Speak roughly to your little boy_

_and beat him when he sneezes!_

_he only does it to annoy,_

_because he knows it teases!"_

It would be very foolish to pan this encounter as an isolated incident.


End file.
